


Ballade

by Sapphire Snowflake (annie15)



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: Complete, F/M, Gen, prompt: piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie15/pseuds/Sapphire%20Snowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy to be the lone audience of the ballade of his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballade

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. Never will.

**  
Ballade**

 **-*-**

The door to the Third Music Room opened to its (his) lone audience by accident. Dexterous hands swept across the piano keys, creating music that she had never heard before. _It was a new one,_ she thought as she stood still - just like the hinges - mesmerized by every move of the performer, the solo artist and self-proclaimed ruler, in the room.

 

 _Accidents never happen by chance._

 

Alas, the song suddenly turned stronger, more dramatic and demanding as the notes turned crescendo. She could hear her heart beating faster as if swaying with the tune around her. The beat went _faster_ and she was catching her breath with his every move. The sinking (and drowning) feeling grew stronger as the notes turned alive, inching their way into her being, her heart, her _soul_.

 

Panic rose, a fight ensued and she lost; it was like wading in quick sand.

 

But as she looked back at him (the performer, solo artist and self-proclaimed ruler) while clutching her chest, the sinking feeling diminished. Butterflies started eating the whole note, the half note and the notes that did nothing but confuse her. They fluttered across her heart, leaving a new emotion called

 

“Tamaki-sempai.”

 

“Haruhi.” Wide purple eyes landed on hers in recognition and the music momentarily stopped. He smiled softly and resumed playing.

 

(Him. Her. Them.)

 

She closed her eyes, a smile playing - _because he was playing again_ \- on her lips. The new one overwhelmed her but she decided that this was much better than before.

 

However, she couldn’t help but feel that she had forgotten something important.

 

The butterflies never ventured near the hole, never tried to fill it. They slowed down when the music turned soft – the song was near its completion. And then it ended and the former stopped, leaving nothing but butterfly powders and a half-eaten whole note.

 

And when she noticed everything, she gasped; the hinges moved from its place.

 

Because when a marvelous piece ends and the music book is closed, the performer _bows_ (for what?) and takes his leave; the audience is moved to tears.

 

 

 

 


End file.
